Fantasy Game
by nine miles to go
Summary: Bean finally plays the fantasy game. Ender's Shadow.
1. Achilles

Hey, everyone. This is my first Orson Scott Card fic, based entirely on Ender's Shadow. Yes, I read Ender's Game first, but this book is SO much better if you ask me. I mean, I loved 'em both (uh, duh), but Bean is, like, the ultimate underdog. Yay!

So, um, here's the fic! Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Ender's Shadow or any of the other books.

* * *

**Fantasy Game**

_Chapter One: Achilles_

Achilles.

Bean froze. Nobody else was in the game room now; they were finishing school work or plotting ways to defeat the infamous Dragon Army. This game was nothing but a foul trick. So this was the fantasy game that they wanted him to play so badly? No wonder. They were shamelessly trying to pry into his mind, not even trying to hide it.

He tore his eyes away, breathing hard. But how did it know? It was only a machine, wasn't it? It defied logic, tapping into his head like that.

Swallowing hard, he turned his back on it. It was only stress. He hadn't really seen Achilles' face on the screen; that was absurd. Laughable, even, that he was this far over the edge to see things that were thousands and thousands of miles away. Rotterdam was another lifetime. This was Battle School, not the streets.

Thoroughly comforted by his resolution, he turned back to the screen just to prove to himself how silly he was being. But there it was again. Achilles, right on the screen. He could hear his heart beat, ringing in his ears. What _was _this terrible game? Why did all of the other kids play it so often, if it showed things that you didn't want to see? A life you'd struggled to survive through? He found it hard to believe that he was the only kid who had ever ignored it. It was evil, really.

But this time, he couldn't look away. Mesmerized, he walked back to the screen, sitting down in the chair. His fingers trembled. _Don't touch it. You know it's only what they want, _a voice of reason told him. But who the hell cared what they wanted? Did it matter if they knew what he was thinking?

Then again, what if they didn't like what they analyzed? He knew that they'd watch his every move in the game and find some complex psychological bullshit to explain it. And maybe it wouldn't just be Achilles. Maybe it could help him figure out his past. True, he didn't really need to know where he came from, but it wouldn't hurt to see if this thing—however evil it was—could help him remember. His parents had to be…well, pretty smart. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he'd remember.

And all of the Battle School officials tracking the game would know, too. Was it worth it?

His hands lifted unconsciously, touched the screen. Then he was too far gone. There was no getting away from it now.

* * *

"Ho, Ender," Nikolai greeted his commander, putting his desk aside. Stupid homework. This was really getting out of hand. He just blew up at Bean a second ago, telling him he didn't need anymore damn help with the work, and instantly regretted it. He did need help. But Bean would understand. 

Question was, why was Ender here?

"Ho, Nikolai. You seen Bean anywhere?" the boy asked him.

Nikolai frowned. "No. He been hacking again?" he joked, grinning. Ender didn't laugh. He looked about as tired as everyone, if not more. He was commander, after all.

"Well, if you see him, tell him to come see me," said Ender. "Thanks."

He turned to leave. "Wait. I kicked him out a couple of minutes ago. I think he was headed for the game room," Nikolai remembered. Bean had muttered something about it. Probably telling him so Nikolai could go back for help when he'd accepted defeat—but not yet. It was only algebra. He'd get it soon enough.

"Oh. Thanks, then. See you at practice," Ender bid him, leaving the room.

Nikolai frowned, distracted from his work. What was so important that Ender would leave the quarters to go find Bean? Maybe the teachers had sent him. Bean did have unusually high scores. Or maybe something about Bean's performance? He was extremely high up in the rankings, which was pretty notable considering his small stature.

He shook his head. It was probably nothing. Now was the time to catch up on the near impossible workload he had ahead of him, no thanks to whoever the hell was setting up battle after battle after battle for their army.

* * *

"Bean," the Achilles greeted him, smiling wide. 

Bean realized that the Achilles in the screen was talking to him. He looked around the room for a second. Yes, it was empty. Then the room seemed to dissolve and it was just him and the game.

"Achilles," he whispered.

"Wow, it's been awhile. You missed your Papa?" he said. The words hinted mockery. Bean felt a sudden flash of fear—he'd killed Poke and Bean knew it. _Only _Bean knew it. Did Achilles know that Bean had been there that night?

He reminded himself that it wasn't a matter of Achilles knowing—it was the _game_ knowing. It was all a simulation, right? So why was he sweating, feeling an irrational sense of uneasiness?

Bean just nodded at the screen helplessly, unsure of how to answer. No, you've haunted me since the day I stood over you and said, "Kill him." Since the day you refused to share your bread with me, you cut me out of your circle, you planned to kill me, you killed Poke instead…

Achilles took a step closer to him. Bean's breath grew shallow; it was as if he was _in the game_. The outside world meant nothing to him now. He was alone in this with nobody to help. Sister Carlotta wouldn't whisk him off the street, a teacher wouldn't come running if Achilles killed him.

"Why are you here?" Bean asked in a strangled voice.

Achilles shrugged. "To make sure you don't forget," he said. The figure walked till there was nothing but two inches of dead air between them. Bean could have sworn he felt Achilles' breath on his head, towering over him. He'd never felt so small in his life. Everything was exactly as it had been in Rotterdam, except—

His leg was fixed.

"Don't try to run," Achilles taunted.

Bean swung a punch. Achilles ducked swiftly, leaving Bean feeling like a blubbering idiot. No, he'd calculated that attack. It was supposed to hit! Nobody was that fast, let alone Achilles. The boy seemed inhuman in his agility.

Desperately Bean swung again, barely making a scratch on his shoulder. Achilles kicked at his knees, sending him to the ground. He jabbed at Bean's jaw with his leg. Bean doubled over in agony.

Wasn't this a game? Why was he really in pain? It wasn't even the pain that bothered him. Pain he could deal with. But coming from Achilles, the only guy who'd ever outsmarted him—just for a second, too, and that's all it had taken to kill poor Poke—it was unbearable. Shaming. He didn't deserve to be in Battle School, he should have starved. _God didn't save me, Sister Carlotta, he cursed me, _Bean thought, mind swimming. _You said he took all of the starved children into his heart. I asked you if he didn't love me, and you didn't explain. Now I know. _

"You k-killed Poke," Bean choked, struggling to his feet. Was this real? Or only his imagination? "You kissed her and you _killed _her!"

Achilles only grinned a maddening grin, shaking his head at Bean. "No, kid, you killed her. She died trying to save you." Then he laughed mirthlessly. "It's your fault. I wouldn't have had to kill her, but you had to come up with your little plan."

Bean covered his hands with his ears. His eyes stung. Was he…crying? He couldn't remember ever crying in his life, not even when he was young.

Achilles' voice overpowered the pathetic attempt to drown him out. "That's right, kid. You came out of nowhere. Find a bully, you told Poke, kill him to warn the others."

"You don't know that!" Bean yelled. "No one ever told you that!"

"You think I didn't know? C'mon, what did you take me for?" Achilles' arm moved so fast Bean couldn't even see where it was until it was right in front of his face, knocking him off of his feet. Bean cried out, hitting the hard ground with a thud. Pain shot through his head, tears ran down his cheeks. He reached up, his face a mixture of tears and blood. He stared at the hand in horror. Crying? Bleeding? In a game that wasn't supposed to be real?

What was this hell that the teachers had created?

"Who else have you killed?" Bean demanded. "How many people have to die? You were going to kill me whether or not Poke died, you know it! I didn't kill her!"

"Yes, you did. You didn't figure it out. They're only kissing, you thought. You left me there to kill her. You could have stopped me, isn't that right, Bean?"

"I was four years old," Bean reasoned, his voice cracking. He buried his head in his knees, muffling sobs. "I didn't know, Poke, I didn't know…"

"_I didn't know_," Achilles mocked him in a baby voice, kicking his small form. "And here I thought you were supposed to be a genius. Beat me to Battle School, didn't you? Top marks, right?"

"Leave me alone. You're not real," Bean whispered.

Achilles' leer burned through Bean's conscious. "But I am, Bean. I always will be."

Bean let out an animal cry, lunging towards Achilles, ready to take him down. Kill him. Kill him. **Kill him, Poke.**

"Bean?"

Another voice, an unexpected one, called out his name. Bean quieted his choking breaths, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Achilles disappeared. Bean fell to the floor in the space he'd lunged for Achilles' in, yelling in frustration.

"Bean!"

That voice! Damn it, what was it? He looked around in the black abyss of the game. No one. He was alone.

"Bean, what the hell—"

Bean gasped, coming back from the screen. His heart beat wildly, his palms were sweating. He was shaking, abnormally cold. He felt his mouth. Blood. His stomach ached from the blow, everything stung. He sucked in air, trying not to scream.

"What the hell happened?"

He looked up and saw his commander staring down at him.

Damn those teachers and their fantasy game. Damn them all to hell.

* * *

And there you go! Press the blue button. It says review...most of the time. MWAHAHAHA.

...yeah, it's weird, I know, but the evil laugh is how I get my kicks. So deal with it. Now review! This fanfic area seems kind of like a small community, so I really want opinions on this, whether you liked it or not. It would be cool if the criticism were constructive, but eh, I'm not gonna lose any sleep. :D


	2. Mysteries

**Fantasy Game**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Orson Scott Card's books.

* * *

Chapter Two

_Mystery_

Ender walked down the empty hallways of Battle School, his mind too occupied with the events of the past few weeks to pay any attention to the silence. How many battles had they fought in so far? He'd lost count. This army had been given to him, he'd been made a commander. As if that wasn't unbelievable enough so early in the game, they were bending the rules. No, not bending. Flat out breaking them.

They'd put every odd against him. Given him launchies and transfers, the ominous Dragon Army that had once been eliminated for its failure to compete, made him fight every single day. But they'd battled valiantly. He could trust his toon leaders.

Which was why he needed fresh blood. He trusted his toon leaders too much, in a way. They were predictable. He knew what they could and couldn't manage, but what he didn't have any idea of was Bean's abilities. In the beginning of the army's formation, Bean had expressed a desire to be a toon leader. Little Bean—what was he, three and a half feet tall? Maybe five years old? Approaching him like an adult would, speaking words straight out of a dictionary. It was eerie.

But it wasn't enough to convince Ender. This boy, Bean, they had said, was like a mini Ender. Apparently his scores were higher than Ender's. He had a knack for strategy and hacking, like Ender did. For some reason, though, Ender never ran into the kid during his launchy days. It was almost like the kid was avoiding him. Not that Ender cared. He'd always been busy, training kids in the free time they had, keeping up with studies.

Now Bean was still a mystery, but a more intriguing one. Prove yourself, Ender had told him, and I'll make you a toon leader. Bean had done more than proven himself. The kid was not to be underestimated for his size, that was apparent from the start. Not only that, though, but he was fast and saw the battle as a whole. Most soldiers focused on what was happening to directly affect them—an enemy about to shoot, a frozen soldier drifting towards them, all the things that didn't matter. Worrying about their standings, shooting aimlessly to improve their scores. Bean wasn't like that. In one of the battles he'd launched himself out in what looked like clear suicide, giving them an advantage and freezing eleven opposing soldiers.

Bean _was _like Ender, because he knew the truth. When it came down to it, all they had was the Buggers and humanity. Not Dragon and all of the other armies pitted against one another. So in a way, it wasn't the brilliant maneuvers and clever thinking of Bean that made Ender decide to finally give him a position of power; it was his outlook on the future. Anyone who knew the truth was worth training harder.

And Ender was confident that Bean wouldn't screw anything up. He hadn't given him any reason to doubt so far.

He reached the game room, opened the door. It was virtually empty. Ender grinned to himself. Everyone was so busy plotting the demise of his army that they had no better use for free time now. He wasn't thinking this because he was conceited, of course. He knew the truth. The whole school knew. The teachers knew. It wasn't an accident that the Dragon Army was getting such a big reputation.

Then he heard a scream.

"I was four years old," a voice said desperately. A sob echoed through the game room. "I didn't know, Poke, I didn't know…"

The sound led Ender to a dark, remote corner of the game room. He looked at the screen and instantly recognized it as the fantasy game; looked at the kid staring at the screen in anguish and recognized him as the very kid he'd been coming to see. But Bean was beyond sucked into the game. He didn't acknowledge Ender's presence, and Ender could understand why.

He peered at the screen. It was a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen, his face menacing and cruel, his stature intimidating. But it was different. It wasn't the fantasy game. This kid _knew_ Bean, was walking around and talking to him—kicking him! Bean flinched, crying out. How was this happening?

In horror he looked at Bean's face. It was bloody and tear-stained, etched with guilt and despair. His small frame was hunched over the game, not even touching the controls. He was talking to the kid in the game. Ender gasped. Now the game could really hurt people? Or was it just Bean? Yes, Ender had felt pain in the fantasy game before, but it always stopped as soon as he quit.

"Leave me alone." The tiny voice was barely a whisper. It didn't sound human. "You're not real…"

The boy's lips moved. Something offended Bean. He leapt out of the seat, lunged towards something that wasn't there, yelling in frustration.

"Bean?" Ender said softly, trying to snap him out of it.

Bean landed on the screen with a thud, still transfixed with the game. His eyes were glazed over, wet with unshed tears.

"Bean!" he repeated, louder this time.

Bean whipped around, looking stricken and panicked. Blood trickled from his jaw. One of his eyes was a sickly yellow, a bruise forming fast. He didn't seem to be breathing for a second or two.

"Bean, what the hell—?" he was cut off. Bean gasped for air, doubled over and clutched at his stomach. A low moan escaped him, but he quickly sucked it back in. He fell back into the chair from the game, shaking.

"What the hell happened?" Ender asked.

Slowly, as if it pained him (not that it would be surprising, considering his condition), Bean looked up and faced Ender. Shock flooded his face first. He coughed, spitting out more blood onto his uniform. He swiped at his eyes, trying to eliminate the tears, then stared at his hand for a moment in disbelief. Then he leapt up and looked back at the game in disgust and shame.

"I don't know," he admitted, standing up straighter. He winced.

"Who did this to you?" Ender pried, fury starting to rise in his chest. Of course this would happen to the littlest kid in his army. Those cowards. Probably from Salamander. They were angry with the Dragon Army for whooping their asses, so they went for the defenseless one.

Bean shuddered.

"Bean, tell me."

The boy bit his lip. "The game," he said softly.

"The boy in the game?" Ender frowned. "But the game can't…"

Bean shivered, clearly distraught. "That's what I thought. It's the first time…I've ever played," he said, still clutching to his stomach miserably. "I hate it."

"So do I," Ender agreed, remembering Peter in the mirror.

He waited until Bean caught his breath to see if he wanted to talk about it, but the kid remained silent. "I'm sorry," he finally muttered. "That was really stupid."

"No, it wasn't. You're hurt." Ender paused. "Who was that boy?"

Bean shook his head, laughed bitterly. "Some kid on the streets of Rotterdam," he said as his only explanation. He shakily rose to his feet, cringing, and walked towards the exit. "It doesn't matter."

"You need to find a nurse," Ender called out after him.

"It doesn't matter," Bean repeated.

Ender's eyes lingered on the seat Bean was sitting in. Blood. The seat was decorated with a small pool of wet blood.

* * *

"**He played the fantasy game." **

"**Who played?" **

"**You know who I'm talking about. Bean. The only kid in the history of Battle School to refuse the game. He played it in the game room." **

"**Oh, gee, that's great, Graff. Let's get some tea and call it a night." **

"**This isn't some joke. You realize how long we've been trying to get into this kid's head?" **

"**I've been a part of it, I would know. So what did he see?" **

"**It wasn't just what he _saw_. You know the other boy in Rotterdam, that Achilles? The one we have a file one?" **

"**That nun of yours doesn't want him in." **

"**Exactly. Bean saw his picture, the one from our files." **

"**So?" **

"**And then it moved." **

"**Moved?" **

"**Walked, talked, beat him up." **

"**The game can't do that. The kid couldn't have possibly…are you saying the game _attacked _a student here in the Battle School?" **

"**He was alone in the game room. Wiggin found him. Bean was beaten up _by the game_, under the guise of some kid named Achilles. Crying. Bleeding." **

"**So the kid can cry." **

"**We thought he wasn't human." **

"**No, you thought he wasn't human. Graff, he's a kid, don't forget that. He's human. He's only had a gene altered." **

"**Right." **

"**You don't sound convinced." **

"**Let's just wait and see how this plays out." **

"**How bad was the kid beaten up?" **

"**Black eye, bruised stomach, a few lost teeth. A headache that's bound to hurt a few days, I'm sure. But he'll be back to the game, I'm sure of it. No one plays that game and doesn't come back for it."**

"**No one's ever waited so long to play the game, either." **

"**Like I said. Let's just wait." **

"**And risk him getting hurt even worse the next go round?" **

"**It's a risk we'll have to take. Meanwhile, get me a file on that Achilles kid. I need more information on him." **

* * *

Okay, I have a resounding number of...no reviews. But the stats thing said I at least had fifteen people read it. Whoever you are, fifteen people, at least tell me what you thought, even if you only read the first line! I'm aware that I'm not really staying true to the characters. Bean was all hard ass in the book, but I wanted him to act more like the little kid he was--hence, this abomination was born! So please review. Even if only to say "I read it." It would make me happy to get SOME sort of feedback. Otherwise I'll just keep posting chapters and annoying the hell outta everyone in the Orson Scott Card category of fanfic :D :D. Love y'all.  
(evil demonic glare of doom) 


	3. Past

Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with Orson Scott Card.

OMG! PEOPLE REVIEWED!

Ember Nickel: Lolzers. Much appreciated. Thanks:D

-Perfect Solution-: Thank you so much! I'm so happyyyyyyyyyyyy to know that someone actually likes it besides me and my imaginary pals here! Though they do count for something, right? Your review has inspired me to write more and more! WOOT! Thanks again!

* * *

Chapter Three

_Past_

Nikolai bit his lip, glaring at the problem on the screen for what seemed like an eternity. Sometimes if he waited long enough, a solution came to mind, but he doubted he'd get that lucky this time. What he needed was Bean. Too bad he'd kicked him out of the room, he thought, grinning wryly.

The door to the bunks opened. The room, noisy with keyboards, boys using scratch paper, and whispered conversations about homework or the next battle, all fell silent. Nikolai looked up, scanning the room. What was going on?

Bean stumbled in, half limping, a grimace on his face. Nikolai's eyes widened.

"What happened?" he asked, rushing up to his friend.

Bean shook his head. "Nothing," he said, pulling away and ducking his head in shame.

But not fast enough. Nikolai saw the traces of tears on his face, the dried blood. "Damn it, Bean…what'd you get yourself into?" It hurt to see Bean like this. Nikolai had taken it upon himself to watch out for Bean—not that Bean needed looking after, smart as he was. And for once, Bean had actually _needed_ him, and Nikolai had let him down by not being there.

It scared him. He'd never seen Bean cry before. He didn't actually think it was_ possible _for Bean to cry, and judging on the stunned expressions of the other kids, he knew he wasn't alone in that belief.

"It was Salamander Army, wasn't it?" Crazy Tom broke the silence then, jumping up from his bunk and throwing his desk aside. "Which one? Who did it?"

"Wasn't them. Wasn't anybody."

"Bean, stop being an idiot. Just tell us," Nikolai urged him. "It's okay."

"I'm telling you, it wasn't anybody," Bean repeated. He lifted his head and looked right at Nikolai. His eyes looked like empty, haunted voids, one of them beginning to bruise black. His features, so childish and yet so wise, shining with blood and tears like a sick artist's painting. They were only children. All of them. It hardly seemed fair that a five-year-old was expected to cope with all this pressure.

"C'mon, _somebody _did it," Crazy Tom pressed on. "Some coward, picking on the little kid like that—damn those Salamanders—"

"It wasn't the Salamanders. It wasn't anyone. It was…" he trailed off, swallowed hard. "I ran into a wall."

Crazy Tom laughed a sharp, barking laugh that echoed through the room, unable to contain himself. "The floor punched you in the eye and the jaw? Made you limp? Been falling a lot, Bean?"

Nobody laughed. Nobody was supposed to.

"Just drop it," Bean asked of them, heading up to his bunk.

Every head turned to watch him struggle up and sit with his head between his knees, blocking them all out. Every student seethed, knowing full well that it was indeed the work of another jealous army, no matter what Bean told them. They knew Bean's track record. He was a weird one—he'd lie to them about it, make it seem like everything was okay. Nikolai didn't want to live a lie, but he "dropped it."

"What did Ender want?" he asked softly once the room had continued its activity, realizing their attempts to get information from Bean were fruitless.

Bean looked up and frowned. Nikolai winced at the sight of the blood. How could teachers allow this kind of thing to happen?

"He wanted something?"

"Yeah. Came in here asking to see you a couple of minutes ago. Went out to go find you."

Bean groaned. "He found me alright."

"Bean…what happened?" Nikolai asked seriously. "You can tell me. You can trust me, you know that."

Bean nodded. "I know." He sighed. "It's just…I don't know if you'll believe me."

Nikolai waited.

"The game," Bean finally said. "The fantasy game."

"Yeah. The one you never play?" Nikolai asked.

"That one," Bean confirmed. "It was…in the game room. I saw…you see, when I was little, I lived on the streets of Rotterdam. Kids were like stray dogs. We starved. We fought each other like barbarians. When I was four, I…" He blinked hard, then reopened his eyes after gaining composure. "I told the leader of a group of kids—Poke was her name, and she had compassion, so much that she…well, I told her I had a plan. I was starving. I'd have died within the week, had I not enlisted her help…" Nikolai thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, but it looked like Bean's eyes were watering.

"Go on," Nikolai prompted him.

Bean took a deep breath. "I told her to get one of the big bully kids and kill him. So all of the other bullies would get the message and leave the little kids alone, since we outnumbered them anyway. We'd get into the food kitchens for once. But…Poke chose the wrong bully. I knew it the instant I saw him. 'Kill him,' I said. I was a murderer at four years old. I kept saying it—he was down, the brick was in her hands, she could have done it. She could have _lived_." The last word was merely a whisper.

"But instead she let Achilles live, and he took over our little band. Got the kids to call him Papa. Got us into the soup kitchen by nearly killing someone. I played my part as the adorable little starved kid to make it look authentic." Bean sniffed then and hid his face from view. "But Achilles never forgot and he never forgave. He singled me and Poke out. And he…killed Poke."

"I'm sorry," Nikolai expressed, astonished. He knew Bean's past had been rough. He knew that Bean was an orphan, but living on the streets at four years old? Starving? Trying to formulate a plan to get by at that young an age?

It didn't surprise him, though. Bean was a genius. It was scary.

"Not as sorry as I am. You don't understand. It…should have been me. I followed Poke to the dock that night." Bean paused. "I saw them kissing. Poke and Achilles. I turned my back, headed towards the other kids, who were sleeping. I should have known. 'You promised,' she said, and I left. About a block…back to camp…" His voice cracked. "I realized what was happening. I ran back and her body was…floating…in the water."

Nikolai didn't know what to say. "It wasn't your fault," he assured his friend. "It was an accident."

Bean waited a moment before speaking again. " 'You promised,' she said. Promised what, Nikolai? Promised to let me live?"

"Bean…"

"Achilles was in the fantasy game, Nikolai, and he beat me up. It's the murder I deserved to suffer. He's punishing me in the game…"

"The fantasy game did this to you?" Nikolai gasped.

"Achilles did it to me."

"It's only a game, it can't do that…"

"Yes, it can. They've rigged it or something. I don't know. I don't care. These people at Battle School, these adults that we're supposed to trust with our lives, they don't like me at all. They're testing me or something, or maybe they want me dead. Less complications in their school. After all, they think I'm not…" He stopped mid-sentence. "Normal," he finally finished.

"They want you here, Bean, otherwise you wouldn't _be _here. And if that game really did that to you…just stay away from it, it's bad news."

"Ender saw it happen. I know I'm not crazy."

"I never said you were."

Bean looked up and smiled weakly at him. "I know. Thanks."

"Don't thank me, I'm just saying you aren't crazy right _now_. Tomorrow or the next day, I have no idea. With all these battles they're throwing at us, I wouldn't be surprised if we all ended up crazy," Nikolai groaned.

"Let me guess. You need help with algebra."

Nikolai rolled his eyes. "Help? I think I need an army."

"Close enough," said Bean, grabbing his desk and getting down from his bunk to join Nikolai. He logged onto his desk and saw a message waiting for him from Ender, asking him to see him as soon as possible.

"Sorry, I have to go. Ender wants to see me," Bean explained, showing him the desk, face full of dread.

"I guess you're going to find out what he wanted after all," Nikolai guessed.

"I hope that's it."

"You'd better run, lights out is in ten minutes."

Bean nodded. "Right. See you later."

* * *

Well, I'm gonna be in Seattle fora week, but don't worry, I'll update as soon as I get back. Lol. I'm saying that for the benefit of the two people that reviewed--either that or to the general public to warn them that no, I have not given up on this nonsensical, crazed plot, and I fully intend to keep posting new chappies! MWAHAHAHAHA!

Thanks for the reviews! They made my week! Here are some digital cookies for you...they're baked fresh from the internet...:D


	4. Dream

Disclaimer: Me own mine foot...but not Orson Scott Card stuff. (pouts).

EmberNickel:D You make me smile, lol. Hope you liked the cookie...just don't eat too many, heaven forbid you get as tall as (sobs)...BEAN...

-Perfect Solution-: MUTINY? Aw, crap, NOW look what you've done! First they DEMAND to get on and figure out what "mutiny" means (I didn't wanna tell 'em), and now suddenly they've all got guns and knives and EMOTIONALLY DAMAGING WORDS...I hope you're happy...lol. Oh, and I'm glad you liked the cookies. Downloaded 'em fresh me-self that mornin'. Have another, if you'd like, but be careful if you're allergic to blogs.

SilverGryphin: Thanks so much for reviewing! Lol I remembered the standings thing about an hour after I posted it, but by then I was all, Neh, I've screwed it enough with the plotline (teehee!). And I miss the bold thingies, too. I wish Orson would keep writing in the series...make some character up or something! He basically fanficked Ender's Shadow and the whole series after it, he can do it again! Lolzers. And I'm really glad of your constructive criticism. It's really helpful. It's rare that someone reviews with good info like that--I truly admire you for it. I will refrain from reading the dialogue aloud (siblings...watching...waiting for blackmail, the little pinpricks...being in a one bedroom hotel room with all three of 'em isn't helping the cause...), but I'm thinking inside my brain--be proud, not very many people can get me to do that. (shudders). So again, thank you! I'm glad you like it.

The 42: YAY! I'm glad I've hooked you. Now I can reel you in and cook you for dinner just like the--oh, wait a second. WHADDAYA WANT, MOM?...No, I'm not virtually cooking any authors on fanfiction...STOP ACCUSING ME OF SUCH ODD, UNTHINKABLE CRIMES! Lol. Thanks for the compliment :D. Hope ya like chappie the fourth.

**NOTE TO PEOPLES/NERDS** (didn't want to discriminate just in case any of my species is online reading this, ya know?)**:I bull-crapped the scene with Ender and Bean. **Ididn't have the bookwith me(I've become an Ender's Shadowmissionarynow, handing it to strangers like the bibleand saying, "Enlighten yourselves...SAVE YOURSELVES..." and somehow ran outta copies), so I decided to recreate it based on what I remembered and what I wanted to add in. So, uh, there's the answer ifyou're wondering what the hell is going on.:D

Oh, and if you'realso wondering how I'm posting whenI said I'd be on vacation,it turns out my dad broughthis laptop and nowI'm on this late into the night, typing away...MWAHAHAHA...except not evilly, I s'pose.

NOW READ, MY MINIONS, READ!

* * *

Chapter Four

_Dream_

Bean used the walk to Ender's room to think up conspiracies. Battle School used to be a mere tool for him; it was sheer survival. Then it changed. He wanted to be a commander, and he knew it—finally, a goal, something to work for besides food and a decent alley to sleep in.

But these people in the school, they didn't trust him and he knew it. The whole survival routine didn't work with them. He supposed that hacking into the systems by pretending to be a teacher—Graff, at that—probably didn't make for a good impression, but that was too late to change. What was he supposed to do now? Pretend that the game hadn't hurt him? Pretend that he was fine?

Yes, said a little voice in his head. That's exactly what I'm supposed to do. They want to play games? I'll give them games. He knew he'd play it again. He couldn't run away from Achilles, not this time. Too many people had to be hurt…and it was Bean's fault. He'd told Poke to do it. If he hadn't done that—

He shook his head, blinking back tears. Why was he so emotional? Today of all days, when god only knew if the teachers were plotting to have them fight a third battle at midnight or something. It was just pressure. He wouldn't be acting like such a baby otherwise.

Collecting himself immediately, he knocked on Ender's door.

"Come in."

Bean opened the door. "Got your message," he said. "Nikolai said you were looking for me."

Ender nodded. "I was."

Bean waited. Ender stared at him for a moment; Bean realized he was still bloody and hadn't gone to the bathrooms to wash up. He stared right back at Ender unfaltering, showing him that he didn't care about it and Ender shouldn't either. He knew that this was only the beginning. There would be more to come—the temptation of the game had become irresistible.

"Remember four weeks ago, Bean? When you told me to make you a toon leader?"

"Eh," Bean answered, not sure whether he should say anything else. Whenever he talked to Ender it was usually Ender making him the smart kid no one liked or some form of belittlement. Either that or Bean coming off snide, which was not what he wanted. He'd fallen into the trap. He wanted Ender to like him, just like everybody else.

"I've made five toon leaders and five assistants, and not one of them has been you."

Bean stood up a little straighter, wondering what he was getting at. Maybe he'd finally seen Bean's intelligence. Had he been watching? Did this mean Bean was ready in his eyes?

"Yes."

"I told you that you had to prove your abilities to me," Ender continued, "and in these past few battles, you have. You think of maneuvers quicker than anyone, and you've probably saved us in more than one instance in battle. I need you to keep doing that for me. I need you to catch the little things, things nobody would notice, to keep us ahead. I trust you."

"How do you know I can do it?" Bean asked out of sheer curiosity. How did Ender pick up on things?

"I've seen you in battle and in practice. And if you can't do it…then we're screwed. I'm running out of ideas, Bean. I need something new. Something fresh. I need your help." He pulled out a list of names and handed it to Bean. "Here. You can form a group from these boys and practice during free time."

His eyes trailed down the list. "No veterans," he observed. Not that it was a problem. The names on this list were promising; he'd already narrowed them down, in fact. He knew who would be in his group.

"After this past week, we're all veterans. Even the launchies." Ender leaned back onto the wall in thought. Bean perused the list for a few moments before Ender spoke again, almost more to himself than to Bean. "I don't understand. Why'd they give me an army of kids so young? Launchies and transfers and rejects. And yet all of them are...different. Was it chance? How much do the teachers really know?"

He left the air out in the open unanswered.

The teachers know nothing, Bean wanted to say. I did it. I did it all.

Bean knew that the question was rhetorical, though; of course he didn't expect Bean to have the answer. He had no idea that it was Bean who had painstakingly gone through the hundreds of battle school students and specially selected the members of Dragon Army. He wasn't blaming Bean. He was confiding in Bean. A chill ran up his spine--confiding in _Bean_? But why? Did he know?

No, of course he didn't. Anyone, even Ender, needed someone to talk to. It was strange but it was true. Ender wasn't really a distant god like everyone thought.

So he finally shrugged at his commander, pretending not to have a clue.

"Why'd they make you a soldier so young, Bean?" Ender asked, shaking his head.

"No younger than you were."

"But why?"

"I don't know," Bean lied.

Ender didn't respond. He knew that Bean understood. His silence was a courtesy towards Bean, prompting him to tell the inevitable truth.

Bean swallowed hard. He realized there was a gap between his two front teeth. He traced it with his tongue, the raw gum metallic tasting and spongy. Then finally he spoke.

"The buggers. They want us to fight the buggers, and they want us soon, so they're pushing us all through training as fast as possible."

Ender smiled weakly. "I guess the rumors are true. You do get it."

"They're pitting us all against each other in this battle, but in the end, we're all going to be fighting the buggers together. I don't understand this school. The teachers are just messing with us now—" Bean thought of the fantasy game and repressed a shudder. "It's stupid, really," he commented, for lack of a better word.

Ender nodded. "You're right, Bean. They're breaking us down. I don't know how many more battles we can take."

"We'll win, Ender. You're the best."

Ender shook his head. "Our army is tired. I'm tired. You're tired. Hell, you were attacked by a game today. How's that for psychological distress?" he laughed bitterly.

"The game didn't—" The lights shut off. "—attack me," Bean finished, quieting his voice. Achilles did.

"Can you find your way back in the dark?"

Bean searched for Ender's outline, but couldn't even manage that. It was pitch black, darker than the inside of his eyelids. He wasn't even sure of where the door was, let alone the maze of hallways he had to use to get back to the bunks.

"Probably not," he said honestly.

"Stay here for the night," said Ender. "Maybe you'll see the good fairy come bring our next battle assignment for tomorrow."

Bean nodded, then realized that Ender couldn't see him. "Alright." He felt the wall behind him, found the doorknob. After inching along the wall he found a corner and curled up into it, resting his head on the carpet. "Night."

"Night," said Ender.

Bean closed his eyes, too exhausted to think of teachers or battles or the game. He'd get up early, deal with it in the morning. He relaxed, let his breathing even out, and slowly fell asleep.

* * *

**Kill him. Kill him. **

_You promised. _

_It's me or Achilles._

**Kill him. Kill him. **

_You followed me here? _

_Don't be afraid, Bean. I'll miss you…_

**Kill him. **

_Shorter than Ender Wiggin! They just keep getting smaller!_

_Pinprick. _

_I heard they used to call you that once. _

_**Kill him! **_

* * *

Bean gasped, his eyes flying open. He was already standing, he realized once he oriented himself. His heart beat violently in his chest. Where the hell was he?

He reached out and found the wall in the darkness. That was right—it was Ender's room. Lights out had come too soon.

"Ender?" he whispered, wondering if that was what had woken him.

He heard a light snore. Wiggin was asleep, at least for now. He carefully tread towards the door, feeling the cold, metal knob. Carefully he creaked the door open, facing the equally dark hallway. He'd find his way through to the game room. It wasn't as far as the bunks and he didn't feel like playing it on his desk, anyway.

He had to play the fantasy game. He needed to do it now, when he was alone. He didn't want Ender pulling him out this time, even if it meant letting Achilles kill him.

* * *

Something click-clacked into his consciousness. Ender blearily opened his eyes. Surely not Graff already. It couldn't be two in the morning yet! Was he going to fight a battle that early in the morning, after fighting two armies yesterday?

He sat upright, remembering Bean's presence. "Bean?" he asked.

No reply. "Hey, Bean, you in here?"

Again, nothing but the gloomy room answered him. He pulled the covers up, closed his eyes. Thekid had probably already gone back to the bunks. He was smart. He'd know the way back.

Ender yawned, savoring the next few precious hours he'd have to rest, and instantly fell back to sleep.

* * *

And there's chapter four! Now I'll crawl into the half-deflated air mattress and think of more sinister plots to post on fanfiction while pretending to sleep. And I might just take over the world. You know, likea hobby or something. You can say ya knew me when. Lolzers. And by taking over the world, I really mean taking over the small puddle of water and the amoebas living in it in our hotel sink. But those amoebas need a LEADER! A representative!

...shutting up now :D. Review, please! It makes me happy and happiness means...um...I'm happy? Huh. That was deep. But let's stick with that.


	5. Trust

Ember Nickel: Good. Because if you did, not only would it be a scientific phenomenon that everyone in the world would hear about through AOL news (because honestly, who watches normal news when there's a lil button you can hit?), you would surely die of giantism. That being said, read da story! W00t. Thanks for reviewing.

SilverGryphin: Own me, will you? Well, bring it! I WILL conquer the puddle in the hotel sink--oh, crap, I'm home now. So THAT'S what the hours and hours of plane flight were for. But...but I thought we were going to Battle School...LIARS, ALL OF THEM... heehee. Yeah, I know Bean slept on the end of the bed, but I cut that out because I thought it would wake Ender up right as Bean was leaving. Then I had him wake up anyway, but by that time I had forgotten to change it. Lol. I am blonde, in case you haven't already guessed based on the slight insanity. Sure, you may say it's not an excuse, but we'll pretend it is so the doctors don't come and investigate my "condition." Mwaha. I just started Shadow of the Giant. I was like, "Rackham? WTF? Wasn't he, like, old school...?" He's gotta die at some point, man. Or else he's freakishly immortal. I feel like doing a parody on him, but I find so much more joy in writing heart wrenching tragedies, ya know? Lol. I am twisted. READ:D Thanks for reviewing.

Disclaimer: Do I look like a man with four children? I don't own Orson Scott Card's books...although I do firmly believe that BeanxPetra is an OTP! BeanandPetra4evr...

THISISAPAGEBREAKBECAUSEFORSOMEREASONTHEDOCUMENTMANAGERWON'TLETMEMAKEONE

Chapter Five

_Trust_

The game room was, predictably, empty. Not that he could be too sure—it was pitch black. He drifted mindlessly over to the game. The mouse danced innocently on the screen. It would only take one touch and that little rodent would be gone, replaced with his foe, his only fear. The guilt and shame more than the man himself. It was the terrible memories Achilles brought back. It reminded him that even though he would always be intelligent beyond any of the boys his age, he could still be fooled by something as simple as a kiss.

Was it love that he misunderstood so badly? But no, it wasn't love. It was Poke trying to save Bean.

He closed his eyes. Not that it made a difference—everything was still black. His hands glided blindly to the controls, bulky and large for his childish hands. Dry blood crusted on his fingers as he curled them into place. His eyes opened.

Now he was on the streets of Rotterdam. Everything was exactly the same: his dumpster, where he sat perched in observation as his body slowly ate itself alive; the alleyway where Poke and her band of little kids slept when the police weren't patrolling the streets; the broken lampposts, destroyed from random acts of violence from the teenagers roaming homeless. The sun was setting into mid-afternoon. He could feel its blazing heat beating his back; he looked down and saw himself four years old again, scrawny and helpless, in an oversized, shredded t-shirt.

He held up his hand. There wasn't blood on it anymore. It was fragile and skinny, looking like it would break. Hunger gnawed deep into his stomach, ringed in his head as a constant reminder.

It was as if Battle School had never happened, it was so real. Was Battle School only a dream? He was so hungry he wouldn't have been surprised. He wouldn't be the first kid to hallucinate.

But he was better than to hallucinate. What was he thinking? Two seconds into the game and already, this madness. To his credit, no one had ever played the fantasy game to this realistic of an extent, and he knew that for sure. He'd seen the other boys playing. They never came out beaten up and crying pathetically.

It didn't stop the agony, though. He felt weak. Defenseless. He hated it. Slowly, painstakingly, he forced his legs to cross the abandoned street into Poke's alley. "Hello?" he called out, his voice small. He grimaced. Four years old was not his best stage of life.

"Bean."

His name was called out, simple syllable as it was, filled with venom and remorse. He took a step back, peering into the shadows of the alleyway.

**Kill him. **

"What was that? What'd you say?"

"I—I didn't say anything," Bean stammered.

A boy stepped out of the shadows—Achilles, predictably. He'd been expecting him. Bean raised his fists in a defensive stance, anticipating any kind of attack.

**Kill him. **

"That's what I thought you said, fart brain," Achilles hissed, cockily walking in Bean's direction.

His heart pulsed in his temples painfully. His arms could barely stay raised, debility holding him back. "What do you want from me?" Bean asked in his loudest voice possible. It came out feeble and pitiful. Like a little kid's.

I am a little kid, he reminded himself spitefully. And even littler in this game.

"I don't know, Bean. It's your game. Why do you think I'm here?" Achilles moved so fast his outline didn't even blur; it was as if he'd snapped his fingers and traveled the ten feet separating the pair in less than a millisecond. He kicked Bean in the gut even faster, kicking him clear into the street.

Bean shuddered, trying to hoist himself to his feet. Instead he fell right back down again, unable to support himself. Everything ached, screaming for food.

"Because the people at Battle School want to see what makes me tick," he managed to say from his humiliating position on the hot, burning cement.

Another kick to the side. "Wrong."

Bean bit his lip, trying not to cry out. A low moan escaped him; he shut his eyes tight, willing himself out of the game. But at the same time, he knew he was going to stay. He wasn't finished. He needed to win before it would be finished.

Besides, he knew it was a lie. Battle School probably had nothing to do with it. This game, Dimack had explained to him, adapted to his "interests." Interests obviously meant weaknesses, too. There was a reason for Bean being here, in this horrid place with this cruel bully.

"So tell me, kid," Achilles taunted, grabbing Bean by the scruff of his tattered shirt. Bean slipped out of from underneath it, his frail frame hitting the pavement again. The older kid grabbed him by the neck and hurled him at the wall of the alley, into its shadowy depths. "Why are you here?"

Something cracked. He was sure it had to be a rib. He spat out blood, coughed for a moment. "Because," he whimpered in a strangled voice, "it was supposed to be me. I was supposed to die, not Poke." His voice rose until he was screaming. He struggled to his feet, finding a new strength. "You should have killed _me_, damn it! You were supposed to kill _me_!"

**Kill him. Kill him. **

His body wracked with raw, soundless sobs, looking away from Achilles. "Poke…tried…to save me. From you. And she died for it. What did she ever do to you? She spared you! I was the one…I said it…I told them…to kill you…" He coughed again, his ribs stinging torturously. "I saw it in your eyes. You were a killer, I knew it, I _knew_ it, but she spared you…she saved both of us…she gave me a name, fed me when I was clearly going to die…"

He looked up. Achilles was gone.

He bowed his head again, sobs ended. He wasn't going to cry. Achilles was gone, but the war was far from over.

"**So the kid can cry." **

Bean gasped, not expecting the voice. It echoed through the darkness of the alley, a voice of the past. It was familiar.

It was a teacher.

"**We thought he wasn't human."**

They were talking about him and he knew it. He'd stumbled on a similar "secret" conversation only weeks ago. Inhuman, they'd said. Unable to love.

Was it true? Could he love? He didn't have any real friends, save Nikolai, but Nikolai was more like a brother than a friend. So was he really just some freak of nature without any emotions?

He shook his head. If only he didn't have any emotions…he wouldn't see Poke's bloodied face every night before he went to sleep, wouldn't live with the weight of the guilt with every step in the Battle School halls. Wouldn't care so much about helping humans defeat the buggers or the turmoil the Earth would inevitably face when civil war began. He had emotions.

"**No, you thought he wasn't human. Graff, he's a kid, don't forget that. He's human. He's only had a gene altered." **

So the game was revealing the teachers to him? It was Graff the voice was talking to? Bean shook his head. Graff always doubted him.

"Kid," Bean laughed softly. "I'm sure."

"**Right." **

The reply was tart and disbelieving. Bean frowned. The teachers obviously didn't mean to have him hear this conversation, and he almost wished he wasn't hearing it. But he had to know the truth. Besides, it wasn't like he was breaking any rules. They _wanted_ him to play this hell they called the fantasy game. They were asking for it.

Still, the truth wasn't a happy one.

"**You don't sound convinced." **

Bean sighed. Every bone in his body ached, screamed for release. Leave the game, leave the game…but he couldn't. His neck burned from Achilles' hold, his ribs stung, his mouth bled again, maybe worse than before. How could he get out?

"**Let's just wait and see how this plays out." **

Two gruff, adult hands grabbed at his shoulders, pulled him backwards. He gasped and instantly regretted it as his pain pierced his expanded chest. The streets of the game grew farther and farther away as the hands pulled him backward, away from the screen.

Bean cried out when the extent of the injuries finally reached him. His head swam. He raised his arm to hit the invader to no avail.

"You're done with the game," said the voice.

"Graff," Bean spat, trying to keep his breathing shallow. It hurt to move, so he stopped. "Let me go," he said as calmly as he could manage.

"What did you do to the game?" Graff demanded. His voice wasn't as stern as usual, though. If anything, he sounded concerned.

"I didn't do anything, sir."

"How did you hear our conversation?"

"Oh, so it really did happen? It's not a figment of my imagination?" A crazed, pained hiccup escaped him. "Good to know what you think of me, Colonel."

"That was classified information."

"You think I wanted to hear that? I'd rather not know your theories, sir, with all due respect," he said with as much disrespect as he could muster. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it looks a bit suspicious that your game—the one you supposedly control—is attacking me. You've been trying to ice me from the start, sir, and don't think I don't know it."

"Nobody's been trying to ice you."

"Don't lie to me, sir, I'm no fool. You hate me. I'm a mystery to you. You think I'm dangerous."

"You posed a threat."

"Posed? Past tense? You're really going to kill me, then. With that stupid game."

"We don't know what's wrong with it. I apologize for the…malfunctions."

"I will go back to it. You can pull me off of it right now, but I will come back. Even if it kills me."

Graff paused then, and carefully turned Bean around to look him in the eye. "I know. And that's why you're useful to us. Because you take risks and you're willing to die for what you believe in."

"So you have been watching the game."

He hesitated, then thought better of lying. It was Bean, after all. "Yes. We've been watching." When Bean didn't say anything, he cleared his throat. "I can get you down to the medic."

Bean shook his head, pulling away. "Don't need one."

Graff nodded, knowing the decision was final. "Be careful, then."

Bean watched him leave. Yes, the pain was near unbearable, but it was worth every second of distress.

He had their trust.

THISISANOTHERPAGEBREAKBECAUSEFORSOMEREASONTHEDOCUMENTMANAGER**STILL**WON'TLETMEMAKEONE

And that's chapter five, so REVIEW! Please? I love all peoples who read Orson Scott Card...I heart Bean...


	6. Battle

Ember Nickel: Never thought about that...hmmmm...Well, Aspergers is also kind of defined by being socially isolated. Bean's pretty out there in the first book. So maybe he's a socially outcast genius giant suffering of two disorders already! So he can be your example! Lol. Nah. That would be kind of strange, though. The disorders aren't too different and yet are completely unrelated. Ack, now you've made me think about things. Look what you've done, fool!

SilverGryphin: Anderson is...uhhhh...somewhere. Dimak's floating around, too. I bring (physically, not just...talkatively) them into the fic later. At the climax. Which I will not tell you because I have some foreign form of self-restraint...ohhh, crap...DON'T DO IT, DON'T TELL--oh, FINE, Bean takes over the world with his flying monkeys and rides around on a broomstick. Are you HAPPY now that I've ruined it for you? Ugh. Lol. I thought I might have made Graff too harsh, so thanks for the reassurance :D.

**THISISSTILLAPAGEBREAKBECAUSEGODONLYKNOWSWHYICAN'TMAKEONE,STUPIDCOMP**

Chapter Six

_Battle_

The lights flickered on. Nikolai groaned and rolled over, pressing his head into the pillow to block out its harsh brightness. He could have mouthed the words with Ender:

"Battle at 0600," he called out. "Hurry up, they're already there!"

"It's that time already!" Crazy Tom yelled angrily.

"I know, I know, they only just told me," Ender explained resignedly. He'd obviously slept in his suit, anticipating the disruption. "Get your suits on, move!"

Nikolai rubbed his eyes and leapt out of bed, grabbing the suit he'd hung up on his bunk. He looked to his left to exchange an irritated look with Bean, but he wasn't there. In fact, he'd never returned after lights out. Nikolai frowned.

"Hey, where's Bean?" he called out.

Ender's head snapped up. "He was sleeping on my floor last night, he couldn't find his way back in the dark. He was gone when I woke up. I thought he came back here."

Nikolai's eyes widened, remembering Bean's bloody mouth and desperate gaze. "I'll check the bathrooms," he said, bolting into his flash suit and running towards the stalls before anyone could answer. "Bean!" he shouted once he got there. "Bean, are you in here?"

His voice echoed back at him. He cursed under his breath and ran back to the bunks just in time to see everybody leave and start rushing towards the Battle Room.

"Bean's missing!" he yelled after them.

The group stopped. They all remembered last night, too. "The little launchy?" asked one of the veterans.

"Go on," Ender ordered, gesturing for them to keep moving. "I'll meet you there in a second, just run."

"Bean's missing," Nikolai repeated, unable to think of anything else to say.

Ender nodded. "I know. I understand that you're upset—we all are—but we have to go through with this battle regardless. We'll finish it up quick and send out a search party. For all we knew he grew some brains and went down to the medics'."

"Right," Nikolai said uncertainly, for Ender's benefit.

Ender placed his hand on Nikolai's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry. Now fight hard."

Ender ran after the group. Nikolai paused for a moment to think, shook his head and tore off behind him, sprinting like hell. If he missed a battle over something as stupid as a missing kid he'd never be able to live it down.

But he couldn't crush the doubt in his mind. Something was wrong.

**HERESANOTHERPAGEBREAK.ITMEANSTHEPOINTOFVIEWISCHANGING.DARNFANFICBEINGEVILANDNOTGIVINGMEPAGEBREAKS**!

When Bean arrived at the bunks, the room was completely empty. "No," he muttered under his breath. He should've expected it. He hurried to his bunk as fast as he could, given the damages to his small frame, and grabbed his flash suit. The most insufferable pain came from his ribcage; he had either cracked or broken multiple ribs. His head pounded mercilessly, there was blood in his mouth again. There were other aches, but these were the only he acknowledge, if only for a moment or two before rushing on.

Once he'd thrown on his suit haphazardly and secured the laser gun into its harness, he took off into the hallway, hearing nothing but his own pounding feet mocking him. Another cough wracked his ribcage. He couldn't keep running. His chest couldn't expand without the pain. Trying to shallow his breathing, he muttered a short curse, sounding unnatural coming from a child's mouth. He walked faster, willing himself not to keel over right there in the middle of the hallway. Students would be waking up for breakfast in a few minutes.

Breakfast. The game's effects lingered on him; he was no longer a scrawny four-year-old, but a lean soon-to-be-six-year-old, yet he was insanely hungry. He would have laughed had he not been under the circumstances.

It was clear that the battle was well underway if not soon to be finished by the time he arrived. He opened the doors a crack, observing. The enemy was nearing their gate. Bean's eyes widened. Most of Dragon Army was frozen, drifting aimlessly. It looked like Salamander had an advantage, being there first. What went wrong?

He calculated the situation, figured out exactly where and how he was going to have to launch himself off of the wall to get a good aim of the advancing Salamander soldiers. He counted to three, braced himself for the overwhelming pain, and jumped into the battle room, firing in a burst of sheer adrenaline.

For a sweet several minutes he forgot his pain, forgot the horror of being beaten up by Achilles on the very streets he'd escaped a year ago. It was just him and the game. Virtually him and maybe two other Dragon soldiers remaining to fight. Bean fired like a madman, except every move was precise, his mind entirely focused on the task.

Win. He had to win. He knew the consequences; if Ender lost a battle, the teachers would freak. They'd think the world was at stake. So he fought harder, thought faster, and kept firing, ignoring the drops of his own blood when they started floating aimlessly in the abyss of null gravity.

His heart pounded, his blood rushed. A buzzer rang out. The battle was over—they had won.

He was frozen now, completely stiff. He wanted to stay that way—for a short moment, he couldn't feel anything. He was completely numb. But Ender unthawed them all as any commander would, looking beyond furious. For a second Bean thought the anger was directed at him, but he realized that he was pissed at the Battle School officials for pressing them into an unfair battle.

"Bean," said Nikolai, at his side within a few seconds.

"Hey." Bean cringed as he unthawed. Black spots formed at the corner of his eyes.

"This is unbelievable! You told us ten minutes late, the other army was already in the Battle Room, I was missing a soldier—this is getting out of control! If you're going to let the other team cheat, at least have them cheat intelligently," Ender argued with Graff outside of the room.

"You saved our asses," Nikolai laughed, but Bean could see the fear in his laugh. Dragon Army had almost lost a battle.

"Nah. I just…came late."

"Where were you?" asked Nikolai, headed towards the doors by pulling himself along the wall.

Bean willed his arms to move and propel him, but he couldn't. "The game," he answered, forcing his arms to move. His chest was on fire.

Nikolai stopped, squinted over at Bean. "Damn. It got you good."

Bean swallowed hard. "Yeah." He hated this display of weakness. He hated knowing he'd be the last one out of the Battle Room because of this.

He hated thinking that the game was still waiting for him. That it wasn't over and he still didn't know how to end it.

Nikolai took his hand. "C'mon," he said, helping Bean maneuver out of the Battle Room. "Did it strangle you?" he gasped.

"No. Threw me against a wall." A wall that shouldn't have been there, a wall that he shouldn't be able to feel… "With my neck," Bean added in explanation.

"You've got to stop playing," Nikolai said firmly, fear in his voice. Slowly they inched along the wall. "Please. For your own good. Dragon Army needs you—and who would I annoy with all my homework if something happened to you? I'd be iced within the month."

"Within the week," Bean corrected, trying to keep the mood light and pretend that he wasn't so dizzy in the null gravity that he wasn't sure if the door was two feet away or twenty.

His feet touched solid ground. Gravity pressed down on him cruelly, stifling him for a moment. He reached out and found the wall with his hand. Nikolai reached out for his hand, steadying him. Once he thought he could walk Bean let go of his hand.

"Thanks," he said somewhat sheepishly.

"I'm serious, Bean, this is getting out of hand…"

Bean didn't answer.

Nikolai sighed. "Are you coming down to breakfast?"

Bean's stomach was gnawing at him, reminding him of his late night endeavor. He hadn't had any dinner last night in the commotion, on top of that. But he felt like he was going to fall over. He thought of his classes—there was a trigonometry test today. Aw, screw it all to hell, he was never going to show up to classes like this. Even if he cleaned off the blood, his neck would be red and his front teeth would be missing and he wouldn't be able to move.

He shook his head. "No. I'll see you later. I can make it down to the bunks," he assured his friend, starting in the opposite direction.

"You sure?" Nikolai called after him.

"I'm sure." But even as he said it, he was anything but sure. He'd probably be lucky if he made it back to the bunks without tripping on air, he was so lightheaded. He waited until Nikolai's footsteps faded away to reach for his ribs. He poked, affirming that one or more were cracked. Maybe broken. Probably not. He'd be fine—all he had to do was wait a day or so. The tooth fairy might come if he could find his two front teeth.

Bean grinned to himself, feeling slightly mad. How weird he probably looked right now, gap-toothed. Those were his first lost baby teeth. A badge of childhood. It was hilarious that he, after going through things most adults would never see in their lifetime, was losing his first teeth.

He made it to the door and stretched his arm up to palm in. The doors opened and he stumbled in, the pain ballooning with every step. He saw his bunk. Finally, he'd reached the end…all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep until the day was over. He'd get up for practice, though. Ender needed his new group.

He closed his eyes. He was so close to the bunks, but he couldn't move. The door slid shut behind him. His step wavered. Why did he have a top bunk? Why couldn't he have been on the bottom?

He made it to the ladder before his legs fell out from under him. His head rang with atrocious intensity; he held it with his hands, trying to press the pain out of his skull. He was only conscious for a few seconds after hitting the floor. Then everything around him was black again.

**HERESANOTHEROBNOXIOUSATTEMPTATAPAGEBREAK.HOPEYOULIKEDTHECHAPPIE.**

So there's chapter six! Haha, Bean be on da floor. I AM evil. Maybe if you review enough I won't kill him. Teehee. :D :D


	7. Found

SilverGryphin: I have a confession to make. Due to obsession with Ender's Shadow and, having nothing to do in my spare time outside of cross country (why do they start it BEFORE school starts?) and work, I have...errrr...kinda sort of almost finished the story. So I'm not the best updater in the world. I'm just the scariest compulsive fanficker in the world. Lol. Fanficker. That's so fun to say! And as for the "grew some brains" part--it was a major epiphany to put that in the fic after tripping on a tree root during a trail run and saying to one of the other girls, "I need to grow some brains and watch the ground!" YAY for tripping! Maybe if I flump over again, I'll come up with more! TALLY HO! Lol. I might scare the new freshies (freshman). Me being a big, scary, (cough cough) intimidating sophomore of great status. Lol. Not that I can lie, being on fanfic...I'M A NERD...a cool nerd? Hmmm. Nah. Nerds are _already_ cool--it's like, built into the word. Says me. And as for the edit, you were right: I was gonna say the only he _would _acknowledge. Thanks for catching that for me! And I'll use your page break :D. I was gonna do a combo of yours and The 42's suggestions, but the asterisks are scared of me. They don't stay.

The 42: Crap! You knew I was evil? What did I do wrong? I mean really, a little friendly criticism here. I need to make it so nobody can tell. HELP ME! Lol. Hey, are you suffering the heat wave, too? I live on the east coast and I'm about ready to bash my head into a wall. Oh, wait a second, I probably couldn't get that far because I'd be BLINDED by the HUMIDITY! (takes a deep -evil- breath). Thanks for the heads up about the refusal of med care. I'm sort of making him be like that because subconsciously he wants to suffer for Poke's death and blah-dee-blah (I'm really scared that one day I might become a therapist and have nightmares about these fics, ya know?). I'll mention it in some of the later chapters. Bean doesn't have a POV in this chapter. The asterisk for the page break was really cute, but how do you get it to stay? Like, every time I save the document, the asterisk disappears. Did I scare it? DOES IT KNOW I'M EVIL, TOO? QUIT TELLING EVERYONE! Lol.

Ember Nickel: Yeah, I guess it is sorta AU. I'm going to make it so everything can get back on track in the end. I mean, killin' all the buggers and what not. Ender will still be commander. I won't tamper that much with the ending. I just want Ender and Bean to be friends (SOBS) because they weren't really good buddies in the book, if I recall. Something along the lines of, "Why would any soldier want to follow a little pinprick like you?" and then some mild shoving and guilt afterwards. Not that Ender could've known that Bean was a supergenius. MWAHAH.

-- (that's SilverGryphin's pagebreak...I don't want to plagiarize :D)

Chapter Seven

_Found_

Nikolai forked at the eggs and stuck a bit in his mouth, forcing himself to chew. But there was too much on his mind. He thought of his own experiences with the fantasy game. Yes, some of them had been unusual. Sometimes he saw his father working, but he was always still at the desk, never acknowledging his presence. Other times he was in a warm beach, the waves rippling serenely in the distance—he supposed that was what he missed most about leaving his home, the island of Crete. There was no greenery, nature or natural water here in Battle School. It was all metallic and gray.

The fantasy game either made him melancholy or happy or both at the same time, but never put him in any danger. Like he'd been told in the beginning, it adapted to his interests. Never threatened him.

But Bean…he was beaten pretty bad. A sickening weight dropped in his stomach. He shouldn't have let Bean go off to the bunks alone, but he wasn't thinking straight, the win still fresh in his mind. What if something happened to him? What if a Salamander cornered him?

They'd be more respectful than that, wouldn't they?

Except Bean had just cost them a battle. An important battle, at that. They wouldn't forgive him easily for that.

"Damn it," Nikolai muttered. He quickly finished off his breakfast so the nutritionists wouldn't bug him and headed towards the exit.

A hand touched his shoulder. Nikolai halted, immediately knowing who it was without asking.

"Where was Bean?" asked Ender.

Nikolai turned around to face him, unable to discern the emotion Ender was asking with. Anger? Concern? Curiosity? Or gratitude, since Bean's unexpected arrival saved them? More importantly, why didn't Ender know? Hadn't Bean been in his room last night?

"Got up and played the fantasy game last night," Nikolai informed him, sounding more accusatory than he meant to. "Sorry," he muttered immediately. "I just…it was worse this time. He looks like someone tried to kill him and almost succeeded."

"He left the room? How did he even find his way in the dark?"

"Bean's pretty stubborn when he wants to be," Nikolai said, recalling the numerous times they'd argued different positions on matters from political to nutritional (Nikolai liked the puddings, Bean liked the ice cream). He could imagine Bean sneaking up and finding his way.

"I'm worried. I think the teachers are testing him. He's getting in over his head, and we need him," Ender said seriously.

"Is that why you needed to see him?"

Ender nodded. "Yes. I have him doing a few maneuvers on the side. I guess we'll know more about it when he gets a group together—even I'm not exactly sure what he's going to do. I just know it'll be better than what we're doing right now." His face hardened. "I think I'm going to go see Graff about this. I bet he has something to do with it."

"It was Bean's first time playing the fantasy game yesterday," Nikolai told him, in case the information was useful to him. He didn't try to stop Ender from going to the colonel; he had Bean's best interests in mind, too.

"Thought so. This isn't fair anymore, what they're doing. Breaking down our army. Bean's only the first to crack, being the youngest—I'm sure that more will—"

"Bean hasn't cracked," Nikolai defended. "He's the smartest person I know. If anything, they're messing with the game because he _hasn't _cracked."

"I know that." Ender sighed. "This has gone too far."

"I'll go check on Bean," said Nikolai, heading towards the bunks.

"Where is he now? I couldn't catch up with him after the game. He looked pretty bad."

"In the bunks."

"Thank him for me, would you?" Ender requested, giving him a small, strained smile. "He really did save us there." Then he gestured towards the door. "Go find him, I'll see Graff."

"Thanks."

Nikolai didn't need the silly lights anymore to find his way to the bunks. He could run through these halls without even thinking about where he was going now. He ran until he felt that his lungs would tear from the effort and slammed his palm on the door for admittance.

His eyes quickly scanned the room. "Bean?" he called out in a half-gasp. The top bunk was empty. His gaze trailed to the floor, where he saw his friend's limp form crumpled by the ladder.

"Bean…" Nikolai huddled down to Bean's level, prodding him. "Bean, wake up," he said.

Nothing. Bean didn't so much as flinch at his touch.

Nikolai felt a bolt of panic flash through him. "Bean?" he asked again, more frantic than before. "Wake up, Bean!" He shook the boy by the shoulders. There was a small pool of blood underneath him; Nikolai looked away impulsively. The only hint that Bean was still alive was the sound of his shallow, uneven breathing; Nikolai sighed in relief. Bean was okay for now.

He dragged Bean into a sitting position and hoisted him onto someone's bunk, sure that the blood wouldn't matter under the circumstances. "I'll be right back," he promised, "just don't do anything stupid, okay?" As if Bean could hear him. Maybe he could.

With one last glance at Bean, he tore off back into the hall. The teachers weren't going to get away with this. He'd go to Ender—he'd know what to do.

--

Ender knocked on what he knew to be Graff's office during the day. At first nobody answered, so he knocked again, louder this time.

"Come in."

Graff only looked mildly surprised to see him standing there, but he knew as well as Ender that the confrontation was bound to happen sometime soon.

"Ender," he greeted the boy with a slight nod.

"Sir," he replied curtly. "I want to know what you're trying to do."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't treat me like some stupid kid, sir," Ender snarled, "we both know that anyone in my army is way beyond that now. What are you trying to do, kill us all? One of my soldiers was attacked by the _fantasy game _last night! What kind of explanation do you have for that, sir? You're behind all of this, aren't you?"

Graff leaned back on his chair. "I understand that you're angry, but you have to understand that we're testing you—"

"Unfairly, sir."

"—and your army, to see what you're capable of."

"Oh, so the fantasy game was just a little sideshow? Use a soldier as a pawn to almost lose a battle because of his absence?"

"I wasn't aware that you placed high value on Bean's presence," Graff commented.

Ender scowled. "So you do have something to do with this."

Graff shook his head. "No. I'm looking into it. In the meantime, though, let him play. I'd like to see what comes out of this."

"What will you do if you kill him? Replace him with another soldier?" Ender demanded. "We can't do that this late in the game, sir. The buggers are coming. I know it, you know it—hell, Bean knows it, and he's five. You're making it a bit obvious. We can't replace anybody."

"Bean is…an exception to that. And we aren't going to kill him." His eyes flashed. "I see you're not playing the fantasy game anymore. Why don't you try it if you think it's so rigged?"

"Because I won," Ender explained resignedly. "I told you that."

Haphazard footsteps scurried down the hall, coming closer. Ender and Graff stood their ground, stares locked on the other, until the footsteps came to a halt.

"Ender," gasped Nikolai, looking relieved, "it's—" He saw Graff and stopped.

"Go on," Graff prompted him. "Whatever you say to your commander you can say in front of me."

Nikolai jutted out his chin, trying to be defiant. It looked a little weird coming from a mild-mannered sort of boy, but he got the point across. "It's Bean. He's unconscious in the bunks and I can't wake him up." His forehead creased with worry and he bit his lip, message delivered.

Ender shot a look over at Graff.

"Better go deal with that. It's your soldier," said Graff, raising his eyebrows.

The boy scoffed with disgust at his elder. "We need him for the buggers, sir," he said loudly, making sure that Nikolai heard it in his daze.

"I know."

--

Okay. Now that you've read the chapter and all that crazy business, answer me this: who else has been hearing rumors about an Ender's Game/Ender's Shadow movie combo? I looked it up online but it looks like Card dropped it months ago. I'm, like, resorting to asking shallow and petty celebrity magazines with entertainment sections (alright, I'll admit it...I want to know _what_ Nicole did as much as the next girl...) if they can dig up the dirt 'bout what's going on! Orson Scott Card was quoted saying he wanted Dakota Fanning to play Petra. Errrr...isn't she s'posed to be Armenian? I can't imagine Bean making out and having babies with Dakota Fanning, either. ACK! SOMEONE KILL ME! Somewhere in the world right now, Orson Scott Card is cringing. Even his website, (you also get redirected to it if you type in funnily enough), doesn't mention much about it. I NEED THAT MOVIE. I NEEEEED IT. He'd better do Bean justice, too. Lol. I think Card might be writing the script himself. It should be amazing. Like, better than Superman Returns! w00t. Don't ask. At some point Jake Lloyd (ya know, that lil kid from the Phantom Menace that couldn't act but had the cute smile? the one no one ever saw in a movie ever again? ah, child stardom...) was considered for the role of Ender, but he's obviously too old now. WHO WILL PLAY BEAN? And at some point, thirty-five pages of a potential script leaked out onto the web, but all the links have been since disabled. I am slightly furious about that. Lol.

Okay...I ranted again, didn't I? It was worth it. Hey, dudes, wake up, it wasn't THAT boring...errrr, wake UP...aw, man. Next city, here I come.


End file.
